Flicker, Then Fade
by DoctorNinjaSpy
Summary: Life was unfair. It seemed to strangle and crush any sign of happiness, destroying tranquility and contentment everywhere it saw fit. Life was unfair, because Castiel had found himself undoubtedly and unconditionally in love with Dean Winchester, and in the hunter's current demon state, Cas was almost positive that love was physically impossible for Dean to even consider.
1. Chapter 1

Life was unfair. It seemed to strangle and crush any sign of happiness, destroying tranquility and contentment everywhere it saw fit. Even if one had somehow managed to obtain some obscure form of joyous existence, it would surely not last forever, as Death would soon claim them and their obliviously gleeful lifestyle. Life was unfair, because after all these years of pain and suffering, the Winchesters were still forced to endure heartbreak and hardships, adversity after adversity piling onto the already bone-crushing weight that sat atop their shoulders. Life was unfair, because Castiel, despite everything he had sacrificed for Sam and Dean, and for the sake of the mortal world, was still going to perish in a matter of months, seeing as how the grace inside him was slowly deteriorating. Life was unfair, because the terminal angel had found himself undoubtedly and unconditionally in love with Dean Winchester, and in his current demon state, Cas was almost positive that love was physically impossible for Dean to even consider.

In fact, the only feelings Castiel ever picked up from Dean nowadays were hateful ones, contempt and resentment boiling in the demon's blood at the very sight of him. The angel knew not why Dean despised him so much, only that the ex-hunter harbored some sort of irrational loathing towards the angel. Castiel would not have minded much, would have simply disregarded his heartache and regret to push forward into more important things, but with his life fading away, his chances of making Dean aware of his feelings went along with it. He knew that the sentiment in and of itself was not of import, and would most likely drive Dean's hatred to new levels entirely, but there was something about the thought of dying with a secret, something about never getting to say the words, 'I love you, Dean Winchester,' that made Castiel uncomfortable in ways he couldn't explain. It made him feel… Incomplete. As if all his sacrifices meant nothing if he could not at least tell the hunter- now, demon- all that churned inside his mind. Castiel knew very well that Dean, as a human, at least, despised himself. The angel wondered for a moment if that would change, even in the slightest, should Dean know that at least one person loves him. Two, if he believed that Sam did as well.

Even so, Cas still could not bring himself to admit it, even when their battles and wars were at a lull, and his emotions would not compromise the safety of anyone's life. The angel had no idea what kept him from it- perhaps the prospect of Dean loathing him even more, of dying with the knowledge that Dean Winchester found him revolting- but nonetheless, the words continued to get caught in his throat. As a result, the angel had come to dread each meeting with the Winchesters, praying to an absent God that Dean would be compliant, or not even present at all. He had grown accustomed to Sam's company, even comforted by it, finding that the younger Winchester seemed to anchor his brother and his violent attitude. Now, as the angel waited patiently outside the brothers' motel room- one in which they stayed as they worked through a simple case, most likely to take their mind off of the more difficult matters- Castiel still hoped beyond belief that Sam would be present, if not the only person in the room at all.

To his luck, but not to his surprise, Dean was the one to open the door.

"Cas." The demon greeted stiffly, reluctantly stepping aside to allow Castiel entry. Dean huffed out a sigh, his eyebrow twitching upwards as his gaze swept over the angel, watching almost intently as Cas shuffled into the motel room.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel started, pressing his lips together as he momentarily looked over the surrounding area for the younger Winchester.

"Sammy's out. Gone to get food," Dean supplied when he noticed Castiel's desperate search of the room, smirking a bit at the amusement he found in how uncomfortable Cas seemed to be, "What's brought you down to our side of town, then, huh? Thought you were working on the whole, _'renovation of heaven' _deal." The demon scoffed, all but slamming the door shut and sauntering over to one of two beds.

"I-…" Castiel sighed, eyes flickering over to Dean, watching as he settled on the edge of the poorly supported motel mattress, "I come with important news."

"That so?" Dean eyebrow raised again, a soft clicking noise sounding out as the demon sucked in a short huff of air through closed teeth, "What kinda news?"

"Important news. I have just stated that." Castiel replied, accompanied by a small tilt of his head.

Dean rolled his eyes, elbows resting against his knees as the demon's hand came up to slide across his face, looking sincerely pained by every word that slipped past Cas' lips. "No, Cas. Good or bad news?" He clarified begrudgingly.

"Oh," The angel responded softly, turning his gaze down to the floor, "Bad news, I believe."

"'Course," Dean huffed, shaking his head, "What other kind of news do you ever bring?"

"I… Apologize, Dean, I-"

"Just tell me what it is, okay? The sooner you're out of here, the better."

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, allowing a small moment of uncomfortable silence to settle between them. "It seems that a new rising power has been detected. We are unsure yet whether or not it is a demon, or another angel looking to become a new God, but we do know that this-… Being, whatever they may be, is quite violent."

"We?" Dean repeated questioningly, "Who's _'we'_?"

"The angels of heaven have detected-"

"Oh, great. Your little fluffy-feathered buddies know about this?"

"Of course they do, Dean. They are the ones who informed me. Is this a bad thing…?"

"Yeah, it's a bad thing! You and your perfect little angelic army always fuck shit up, Cas. You always make it so hard for Sammy and I to do anything, and who knows how you idiots are gonna screw this up now." Dean spat, muscles tense and jaw tightening.

"I apologize, Dean," Castiel replied solemnly, "I will… Attempt to not 'screw things up' as we deal with-"

"No, you're not gonna do anything at all. You're gonna stay out of it until Sammy and I tell you otherwise. Understand?"

"Yes, Dean." The angel responded clearly and without hesitation. He was created to follow orders, after all.

"Good," The demon huffed, visibly relaxing, although turning his gaze away from Castiel. It was a long time before either of them spoke, an almost painful absence of sound drifting into the air of the small motel room. Dean opened his mouth to add something, most likely something unnecessarily cruel and belittling, when Sam slipped into the room, plastic bags slung around his arms and a rather confused look settled on his brow when he caught sight of Castiel.

"Hey, Cas…" He greeted awkwardly, dumping the food on a small table provided in the room, "What's up?" Sam asked.

"I-…" Cas began, shifting awkwardly, before bowing his head slightly and swallowing thickly, "I should go." The angel stated simply, before disappearing from the room without another word.

* * *

Hey, all! This is my first multi-chapter fanfic. I have had the idea for this swimming around in my thoughts for at least a year now, and I have planned out the important plot points in my head at least on hundred times. As for the in between, well... Let's just say, I'm still figuring it out. Obviously, I don't own any of these characters, unfortunately, so there's my little disclaimer. Friendly criticism is always appreciated! Thank you for reading, and I hope any readers enjoy what is to come!

I'm also open to requests and prompts, so feel free to shoot me a message!


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was angry.

That, in itself, is a bit of an obvious statement, seeing as how most of the ex-hunter's life was spent boiling in his own furious concoction of hatred, but to be fair, a large percentage of that was directed toward himself. Now that Dean had demon blood pumping through his veins, he felt a little less abhorrent towards his own existence, and a little more willing to loath the rest of the world.

He hated a good majority of the beings in existence. Save, of course, for Sammy. Sammy, and as he begrudgingly admitted to only himself, Castiel.

As a demon, Dean had begun to feel a bit more… Self-sufficient, shall we say? It was less about everyone else, less about saving the world and making whatever sacrifices needed to be made to rescue people he didn't even know, and more about protecting himself and those few people he actually cared for. This may seem selfish, yes, but when one considers all that Dean Winchester has given up for the wellbeing of this world, it seems that he deserves to look after himself. Dean would agree to help Sam out on hunts, as his younger brother was still focused on protecting humanity, but Dean was perfectly content to lounge about the bunker, drinking beer after beer and not worrying about the next Apocalypse.

So, as a result of his new self-centered demon nature, Dean only really wasted his time worrying about three people- Sammy, Cas, and himself. Now, Sam, he could understand. The guy was his little brother, after all. Dean adored Sam, always had and always will. Castiel, on the other hand… Castiel was dropped into his life when those angel dicks started messing around in matters that they only made worse. Don't get him wrong, Dean, at first, was thankful for Cas. He was thankful for his salvation from hell, for the sacrifices that the angel made. He was thankful for the subtle hint of concern in his voice when he was worried for Dean, for the confused head tilts, for the _obnoxiously_ gorgeous blue eyes that examined every inch of his soul.

The thing is, however, Dean didn't want Cas to mean anything to him. There used to only be one way to get at Dean Winchester. Now, there was _two_. As a human, it didn't matter much to Dean. As a demon, he couldn't afford the extra pressure point. So, he dedicated himself to hating Castiel, or at least acting like he did. Dean wasn't sure if he was doing it to simply put others off of his emotional attachment, or to actually will himself to hate Castiel, but either way, he wasn't letting up. To be honest, part of him took delight in the way the angel practically squirmed under his unforgiving glare, but Dean chalked that up to the whole 'demon' deal. Otherwise, he found himself uncomfortable having to treat Cas so badly. That didn't mean he was going to stop, just that he still cared. And since he still cared, to Dean, it meant he would just have to hate harder.

Even as he sat on the motel bed, huffing out an aggravated sigh at Castiel's sudden disappearance, Dean couldn't help but regret his cruelty. Not that he would ever admit it.

"What was that about?" Sam piped up, drawing Dean's attention away from his thoughts. The younger Winchester had now stood himself in front of Dean, handing his older brother a bag of greasy food that made Sam's skin crawl. Although, Dean seemed to enjoy it.

"Eh," Dean shrugged, accepting the food gratefully and shuffling through the bag to grab a few fries, "He just popped in to tell me something about some freak trying to make another grab at power."

"What?" Sam questioned, brow furrowing in confusion, "What 'freak'? Did Cas give you a name?"

"Nah. He just said something about the dude being violent. Although I don't think it's that much of a big deal. Told him you and I would check it out. Crush the guy before he gets too big and all." Dean explained, fishing his burger out of the bag, peeling the thin, greasy wrapping paper back and taking a bite.

"Oh," Sam responded, beginning to dig into his own, simple salad, "So… Why did he leave in such a hurry?"

Dean simply shrugged again, although a twinge of guilt swam about in his stomach.

"Are you… You know, are you okay?" Sam asked, causing his older brother to flash him a skeptical look, "I know you don't do the whole '_emotions´_ thing, but… Lately, you and Cas-"

"We're fine," The elder Winchester interrupted sharply, "_I'm_ fine."

"Okay…" Sam replied after a moment, although clearly not convinced.

Being emotionless, as Dean now realized, was so freaking _hard_.

* * *

So, hey! Second chapter, woot woot! This, to be honest, was more of an explanatory chapter (to bring a light onto the reason why Dean is being an assbutt), and the next one will be the same sort of thing, but for a different character! After that, I promise I'll get the real plot rolling! Hopefully I can get down everything I imagined in my head, but that doesn't always work out. Although, I do hope any readers enjoy this! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Night was absolute. It was not exactly cruel, unmerciful, or unforgiving. It simply existed, and it existed in a firm, undeniable creation. One could not touch it, of course, despite how solid and unwavering it may be.

What might it be like, however, to touch the night? How would it feel to brush your fingers along the dull light of stars, to flatten your palm against cool, subtle breezes and feel your skin slide across the elegant outline of the moon? Perhaps, alike the night itself, it would feel… Absolute.

This, of course, is what Corson admired most about the night. It did not give in, always reappearing when the earth turned its back to the sun and darkness descended upon the expanse of land and ocean than humans name their home. Night, unlike his legions and his rule, did not crumble beneath his feet.

Corson remembered when he first lost power, (curse Solomon and his constraint against him) he practically felt the land deteriorate beneath him, casting him down to the depths of hell, along with his four lost brothers. The demon remembered climbing up against rock and fire, crawling out of the abyss and finally breaching the surface of land, only to be met with the chilled wind of an autumn's night.

Night is something he would always admire. Humanity, however, is something he would always abhor.

Apparently, in his absence, hell- at least, the upper parts- had moved forward since the 'olden days'. They had disregarded dukes, lords, and kings. They had thrown away the ideas of rule and of power, save for one demon that still rose above the others. Corson always found that, despite their insistence that demons were nothing like angels, they always needed someone to command them, to guide them.

He still liked to think himself a king, and remembered his four brothers (Gaap, Amaymon, and Ziminiar) as the mighty rulers that they were. It angered him to no end that this… '_Crowley'_ had named himself the sole king of hell in Lucifer's absence. The arrogant man most likely had no idea what it meant to be a king of hell. Regardless, Corson figured that blind anger would get him nowhere. The Winchesters, however, according to his reluctant and tortured sources, would. He just had to have the right leverage. That, or break them to the point of their surrender. Apparently, not even this imposter of royalty could destroy these two boys, so it wasn't going to be very easy. Although, Corson doubted that either brother had the pleasure of meeting a _real_ king of hell, so perhaps it was not as difficult as everyone informed him it was.

"Sir," A voice piped up behind him, interrupting his intent focus on the dark, star filled sky, "We've found where the Winchesters may be staying. It isn't an absolute location, but… It's the best we could do."

"Thank you, Violet." Corson sighed, waving the demon away. Violet was one of three followers he had managed to ensnare. The other two, Jacob and Bethany, had joined him out of respect for the old ways. All three had pledged their allegiance to a previous rival to Crowley- a knight of hell that Corson remembered well- and were thankful for the new opposing force to the other demon's rule. His three little followers weren't much in terms of brains. They weren't much in terms of brawns, either. They weren't much in terms of anything, to be quite frank. However, three clueless followers were much better than none.

They did have dedication, however. A _blind_ dedication, which meant that they would follow the word of anyone who promised them glory. Which, for Corson, was extremely fortunate. Oh, how his people had fallen from the once great minds and warriors they were. No matter. He would soon fix the sorry group of lazy, useless demons that hell spat out these days.

Soon enough.

* * *

Woah! Two chapters in one day! Pretty dang crazy. Although, to be fair, this one's kind of short. If you didn't realize, this chapter is meant to introduce our new villain. Oooooooo evil wow crazy.  
But yeah there ya go hope you guys enjoy


	4. Chapter 4

Being in love was so incredibly _frustrating_. It was almost ridiculous how many times a day Castiel thought of Dean Winchester. Every object- every being or creature or creation- reminded him of the ex-hunter. A sturdy oak brought his thoughts to Dean's well-built form, tall, strong, and rough to the touch. The speckled feathers of a bird's wings made him think of the freckles that dotted Dean's cheeks- a total of one hundred and fifty two freckles, to be exact (Castiel had counted. Twice.)

Even as the angel stood patiently in the middle of a small, empty park, awaiting the Winchester's arrival to relay information, the soft grass blades beneath him brought vivid pictures of Dean's vibrantly green eyes to his mind. Of course, they were usually in a state of dark onyx nowadays, at least when Dean was around Cas. It was as if the demon was showing off, trying to intimidate the angel with the unsettlingly dark shade of his eyes in hopes of making Castiel uncomfortable enough for him to leave. It usually worked. Although the angel didn't particularly mind the colouring itself, not only did he prefer the handsome emerald of Dean's original eye colour, but the constant reminder that he failed to save his beloved righteous man simply drove him mad on the inside.

The angel had let Dean down once again, losing the hunter to the self-centered, corrupted life of a demon. His soul was soaked in black by now. Castiel still, somehow, thought Dean had a beautiful soul, he always had and he always will. However, with shadows enveloping it constantly, Cas mourned the bright, hopeful, human soul that Dean used to have. It was only further proof of his failure to do anything correctly. The elder Winchester had been noting Castiel's shortcomings quite a lot lately. He seemed to be doing his best to make sure the angel was aware of what a failure he was, and at first, Cas had just brushed it off, convincing himself that Dean was simply being unnecessarily cruel. As time went on, however, the angel slowly started to realize that perhaps Dean had a point. He rarely succeeded in anything, and usually made Sam and Dean's plans go sour, messing them up one way or another.

As a result, Castiel had distanced himself lately, to Dean's delight and Sam's concern. The angel was fearful that he would be the cause of their demise, that somehow he would ruin their plans to the point of a worst case scenario, and it would be his fault that the Winchester brothers died, most likely in a brutal fight. Cas limited their meetings to exchanges of information, hoping that it would lessen the chances of them dying as a consequence of his foolish inadequacy. This was going to be the first time he had seen either of them in a month and a half, finally having gathered enough useful information about the new threat to deem this meeting of any importance at all. Even so, Castiel wanted to end it as soon as possible, just to make sure he wouldn't take up their time.

So, when the Impala finally pulled up, black coat glistening with the last light of the day as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon, Castiel had all his words planned out in his head.

Sam was the first to slip out of the car, striding up to Castiel as his brother reluctantly followed, looking aggravated beyond belief.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted, albeit a bit awkwardly as Dean rolled his eyes, "It's been a while."

"It has," The angel agreed simply, eyes flickering nervously to the blade that Dean twirled lazily in his hands, "I am sorry for the inconvenience of asking you to meet all the way out here. I believed it the safest, considering that it is not likely for anyone to be able to overhear our conversation."

"Yeah, whatever. You could've just shown up at the bunker." Dean grumbled.

"I thought it was previously established- by you, in fact- that I was no longer welcome there." Castiel countered, perhaps a bit too sharply. The angel understood that Dean no longer wanted anything to do with him, but considering Cas was head-over-heels for him, it still stung.

Dean simply scoffed in response, glancing down at his feet. In all honesty, it was only to hide the flash of regret that flickered in his eyes momentarily, but he'd be damned if he'd ever admit something like that.

"Anyways…" Sam prompted, clearing his throat as if to dispel the uncomfortable air that practically suffocated the three, "You said something about a new threat?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded softly, eyes flickering down, then away, as if searching the sky for nothing in particular, "I asked you here to speak of the possible enemy that I previously mentioned. The other angels and I have managed to gather information about him. I believed that since you two- or rather, Dean- refuse to allow our assistance, I could at least relay information to you both."

"Okay, fine, then get on with it." The demon huffed, flashing an insistent glare at Cas.

Castiel pressed his lips together, returning Dean's gaze, although with a softer look of his own, for only a few moments, before continuing. "It appears that this man, rather, demon, is a king of hell."

"A king of hell?" Sam repeated in question, "What, like Crowley?"

"No…" Cas shook his head softly, "In the very beginnings of hell, there was a system of organization much alike that of medieval times. Kings, lords, dukes, and knights- which is where demons like Abaddon, and now Dean, originated from. There were four mainly important kings of hell. Those being Gaap, Amaymon, Ziminiar, and Corson. They were banished to the depths of hell, under the constraint of King Solomon. Corson has seemingly made his way out of hell, and looks to redeem his power. A few demons have already joined his legions, some traditional and looking to restore the old ways, and some simply desiring to get rid of Crowley. Either way, Corson is dangerous and violent, and if he gains power, he could possibly lead hell and its supporters to destroy humanity and possibly invade heaven."

"And why is that such a problem?" Dean asked, smirking almost cruelly, "Way I see it, hell ain't too bad. Every man for himself. No rules, no restraints."

"It's _bad_ because the world will be thrown into chaos. Not only that, but Corson believes that he needs to rid the world of not only order and light, but… You two as well." Castiel explains.

"Us? Why us?"

"He sees you as threats, obstacles, and adversities. Should he gain enough power, he could turn the entirety of hell against the both of you."

Both Winchesters stayed silent for a moment, exchanging worried glances.

"So… What else you got on this guy?" Sam inquired almost nervously.

"Nothing else yet, but-"

"Oh, _great_," Dean groaned, huffing out a bitter chuckle, "You come here to tell us that this guy is trying to unleash _literal hell_ upon us and don't have anything else? Wow, thanks, Cas. You're really helping out here."

"Dean…" Sam began, trying to keep his brother in check while flashing Castiel an apologetic glance.

"Shut up, Sammy," The elder Winchester barked in return, "He's always doing this. He's always giving up more stuff to worry about and no way to fix it. It pisses me off."

"It's not his fault, Dean…"

"Yes it is! He should learn to keep his goddamn useless mouth shut until he gets some _real_ information," Dean spits, and the angel restrains himself from flinching, "C'mon. Let's go. I'm done here." The demon sneers, turning on his heel and striding back to the car.

Sam stays a few seconds longer, muttering a soft, "Thanks, Cas… Sorry," Before running after his brother. Moments later, the car starts, pulling out of the park, wheels bumping against the gravel as it drives away, and Castiel is left alone. The angel is almost thankful for it.

* * *

Sorry chapter four took so long. Starting off a plot is more difficult than I thought it would be. That, and I had a major case of writer's block. Although, at least this chapter is longer than the last two. But there you go. Hope you guys like it!


	5. Chapter 5

Another week had passed without any news from Castiel, and the Winchesters were slowly growing more worried by the hour. It wasn't as if they hadn't faced death before, but given Dean's new focus of only caring for himself, Sam, and (reluctantly) Castiel, he wasn't exactly thrilled to learn that this apparent king of hell had their names on his list. The demon became increasingly cautious every day that passed by, and as most feelings do with demons, that worry translated into anger, specifically toward Castiel.

By now, Dean had mapped out in his mind every harsh word he would spit at Cas when the angel finally decided to show his face. 'Why the hell haven't you said anything', and, 'Where the living christ have you been' were his personal favourites. Mostly because they gave way to another ruthless series of questions and derogatory comments that Dean looked forward to using.

It was ten at night now, and the demon figured that, seeing as it was so late, it was likely that today was going to be another day of silence. Sam had settled for simply waiting for the angel to turn up whenever he thought convenient, but then again, this could simply be contributed to the Winchester's inversely proportionate tolerance with Castiel. It seemed the nastier Dean became, the nicer Sam was. Perhaps Sam felt personally guilty for how cruelly his demon brother treated the loyal angel, or possibly the younger Winchester had realized what Dean meant to Castiel, and had taken it upon himself to help the love-struck angel through such trying times. Either way, Sam and Cas had begun to share a silent and reassuring bond, both understanding the difficulties of dealing with an even angrier, more violent Dean. Which, until then, both had thought impossible.

So, Sam spent the hours in between waiting flipping through countless books, doing research of his own and praying that Castiel knew what he was dealing with. According to the sources he had scavenged from the dirty, ruined books that scattered the boxes in the back of the library, original kings of hell were real bastards to get rid of. Only under the constraint of King Solomon had they been vanquished, and even then, the four kings had to be banished to the deepest, darkest pit of hell itself. Still, one of them has climbed out, a feat that most could never even imagine. What's even worse is the fact that this king, this unrelenting force of fire, heat, and pain, scorching everything in his path and burning all hope to the ground, was after _them._

Oh, how wonderful.

Dean, although he was a knight of hell and more dangerous than most demons could ever dream of being, was still a few ranks _beneath_ Corson. Sam had seen what his brother could do with his new power, and frankly, he did not want to be witness to the terror that this king could bring down upon his small family, and the rest of the world.

In the documentaries that Sam had watched in the years where he had not chased demons or battled angels, scientists had assumed that long ago, in the earliest days of Earth's creation, it was a planet enveloped in chaos, bombarded by asteroids and continuously consumed in unmerciful flames. He wondered for a moment if this was anything like what the rule of King Corson could bring. He prayed that his assumption was wrong.

So, at ten at night, in the safe confines of the bunker, Sam turned his thoughts away from the destruction of the world, and momentarily to the sound of his growling stomach. It appears that he had forgotten to eat for the entirety of the day, far too focused on the countless books that lay in front of him, along with the impending doom of him and his brother.

Sam figured that he might as well make himself something to eat and get some sleep, wondering for a moment if Dean would want something as well, but simply assuming that his brother would have told him by now. He huffed out a sigh, lifting himself from the chair in which he sat and trudging into the kitchen. Sam didn't have enough energy, between worrying, reading, and his daily runs, to make something excessive, and as a result, decided to settle for a small sandwich. It wasn't much, but it would certainly calm his hunger.

He did not even reach the kitchen table before a soft, fluttering sound wisped behind him, followed by a quiet, broken, "Hello, Sam."

"Cas," Sam started, placing the plate onto the table before turning around to face the angel. Anything he had prepared himself to say had flown out of his mind the moment he caught sight of the other man. His forehead dripped blood, cuts lined his lips and cheeks as his coat, now tattered and soaked in a scarlet red, slid off one shoulder, arms drooping by his sides, "Cas, what the _hell_ happened to you?" Sam asked urgently, striding toward Castiel and helping to support him as the angel waved from side to side.

"It is not of import," Cas shook his head softly, placing a hand on Sam's chest to steady himself, "I have new information for you and Dean." He explained, tired eyes flickering up to the younger Winchester's own.

"What? Cas, of course it's important. Look at you, man…" Sam muttered, insistently leading Castiel to the table, pulling out a chair for him to sit down in.

The angel simply shook his head again, clearing his abused throat for a moment before speaking. "It was, as you may have guessed, very difficult information to obtain. I would appreciate if you would simply listen so that I would not have to speak so much." He admitted, although not unkindly. It, truthfully, was rather difficult to talk at all with the state he was in, and Castiel would prefer to get this over with as soon as possible.

Sam flashed him an unsure look, before reluctantly nodding. "Okay, yeah, fine. What'd you find out?"

"Corson has organized a group of almost twenty followers now," Castiel started in a raspy, wavering voice, "And they are currently focused on your whereabouts. I would suggest holding back on the small cases and keeping an eye out for anyone wearing the symbol of an owl with particularly long legs, dressed in a simple crown. Unfortunately, that is all I managed to obtain…" The angel coughs softly, drawing some blood from his lips.

"No, that's fine. Great, actually. Don't worry about it. Thanks, Cas." Sam assured him, brow furrowing in worry at the blood.

"I suppose I should be leaving now." The angel assumed, attempting to stand from the table.

"What? No. You can't just leave like… _That_," Sam insisted, helping him to sit back down, "Why are you so beaten up, anyways?"

"I have told you this already, Sam. I had to pay a price for the information I obtained. The demons who have joined Corson's legion had attacked me. This is how I know what I do in the first place." The angel explained, wiping the blood that dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Okay, but… Why can't you just heal yourself?" Sam inquired, flashing Castiel a curious look.

The angel paused for a long moment, gaze flickering down to avoid Sam's eyes. He could not simply tell Sam that he was dying. That knowledge would most likely only cause more worry for the younger Winchester, and nothing could be done for him anyways. "My grace… It is weakened. It is not that I cannot heal myself, just that… It takes longer than usual."

"Oh," Sam responded simply, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, "Then you should just stay here until you can get back on your feet again."

"I cannot. Dean would-"

"Cas," Sam interrupted firmly, albeit only through concern, "You got yourself beaten half way to hell just to gain information to keep us safe. You can _at least_ stay the night."

The angel thought over this for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he considered it. "I suppose… I suppose I could remain here for the night. In the morning, however, I shall leave."

"Fine, whatever. Just make sure you're all healthy when you do." Sam insisted, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Very well. I only ask you to not draw much attention to me while I stay here, even if for the short amount of time that I plan on. I know that Dean would not enjoy the prospect of living within a mile of me."

"Okay, yeah. I won't tell Dean."

"Tell me what?"

* * *

Welp. Chapter five. There you go. Behold it. Love it. Cherish it.  
Just a note- since I'm going back to school, uploads will probably be once every two weeks instead of every four or five days. I'm going into Junior year, so I'm going to be pretty busy. Although, to be honest, it may not take a whole two weeks for me to upload, I'm just giving myself a margin of error. Basically, don't be surprised if I take a while between uploads. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me what?"

They were not cruel words by themselves. Simply a humble inquiry, a single question that held no unkindness. The way Dean asked it, however, made the words practically drip with contempt. It was as if seeing Castiel triggered something inside the demon that laced his lips with poison, made his blood boil with a toxic concoction of anger and hatred that in turn fueled the hellfire that blazed within his bones, and only served to call upon the shadows of corruption that enveloped his mind and soul.

The demon stood, unmoving and seemingly expressionless, although his eyes flickered with an abhorrent glimmer of light just before the bright, vibrant green was enveloped in darkness. He did not say anything more, simply waited for an answer, tapping his fingers expectantly on the frame of the doorway upon which he leaned.

"Dean," Castiel started, turning to face the ex-hunter while attempting to hide any sign of the pain he currently endured, "I-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear whatever excuses you have for showing up here," The demon interrupted, breaking his previous statuesque position to saunter over to the fridge, shuffling around inside and grabbing hold of a beer, "Just get out."

"Dean, he's-"

"Sammy, I made it clear a while ago that we don't need him around here anymo-"

"Dean, _look at him_," Sam insisted firmly, gesturing to the wounded angel, as Castiel turned his gaze downward and remained tense and uncomfortable, "You can't just kick him out when he's like this."

"He can heal himself, stop making such a big deal out of it." Dean scoffed, taking a sip from the beer bottle and narrowing his eyes at Castiel.

"No, he can't. Something's up with his grace, and it's gonna take a little while for him to fix himself up. I already told him that we could put him up for at least a night or two."

"Jesus, what's up with you, huh? You're really going to bat for him lately and it's pissing me off," The demon sneered, leaning against the counter, pausing in his words for a moment, "That true, Cas? Your grace going haywire?" He asked, trying with every fiber of his very being not to sound as concerned as he actually was.

"I-… Yes," Castiel replied slowly, eyes flickering up to look at Dean for a moment, "I will need… Longer than usual to heal."

"Great. So your grace is just as much of a failure as the rest of you, then?" Dean spat in contempt, rolling his eyes and looking away. It was a few more seconds before anyone spoke again, an awkward, uneasy silence settling around them after Dean's cruel comment. "Fine," The demon finally huffed, keeping his focus on the beer in his hand rather than on Cas, "You can stay for four, five nights tops. But that's it. And don't go thinkin' this changes anything. You're out of here as soon as you stop bleeding so much. And don't get any blood on my stuff." He added with a bitter sneer, before slipping out of the kitchen and back to his own bedroom.

Castiel visibly relaxed after Dean left, allowing his discomfort to show through when the demon finally disappeared.

"Sorry about that," Sam sighed in exasperation, standing up from the table, "I don't know why Dean's being such a jerk lately…"

"It's alright," The angel assured him, heaving himself up with a soft, strained noise, "I understand that Dean is having difficulties with his new… Form, shall we say. It does not bother me."

They both knew all too well that Cas' last statement was a lie if there ever was one, but Sam did not want to pour salt into the wounds by inquiring any further about it and Castiel was far too tired to speak any further.

"C'mon," The younger Winchester prompted, putting one arm against Cas' back to support the angel carefully, "You should probably get cleaned up. I'll go set up your room for you while you shower. And, uh… If you need anything, just, you know… Give me a shout." He instructed, leaving the angel at the bathroom door before walking off.

Castiel paused outside for a moment, eyes flickering to focus absently on the floor as the angel allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts for a moment or two. He had not expected Dean to permit him to stay for such a long time, if even at all. Part of him was cautious of the demon's 'generosity', if it could even be called that. The other half of the angel was simply so exhausted and hurt, that he really did not care if Dean had something more planned. He simply wanted a place to rest, if only for a few hours at all.

Regardless of his small suspicion, Castiel pushed through his tiredness and slipped into the bathroom, relieved that he could finally clean himself of the uncomfortable, dried blood that stuck to his skin.

* * *

Dean plopped himself down on his bed with a heavy exhale, throwing his legs over the side and relaxing against the mattress. In all honesty, he had no idea why he actually allowed Cas to stay in the bunker, not to say that he was regretting his decision or anything.

The angel looked absolutely wrecked, and the minuscule part of humanity that was left inside of Dean gave him the urge to seek out the culprit and proceed to teach them a rather violent, bloody, unmerciful lesson. The majority of him, however, simply laughed at the notion and made fun of him for being so sentimental.

So, instead he settled his headphones over his ears and distracted himself with music, suppressing the urge, along with any other thoughts that suggested any part of Dean actually cared for Castiel, deep within the confines of his mind.

Hopefully, when the angel was finally gone, Dean would have such a problem with, well… Worrying about him so much.

* * *

Hello yes I know it's been a really long time since my last upload please don't murder me

School is hard and also writing is hard and life is hard but here is chapter six so there you go yaaaaay


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